.:Cicerology:. Ch.10Clarice and Cicero collapsed onto Cicero's couch, sighing heavily. It was a lot of work fetching incredibly special ingredients from incredibly strange places for the beloved Night Mother. For example, she required fresh eggs not store bought, but coming directly from the chicken. For that, they had to search the farmer's market, but found no eggs that had been laid recently. However, the owner knew the man who supplied the eggs; one phone call and 45-minute trip into the middle of nowhere later, they had two brand new, still-warm eggs in their hands..:Cicerology:. Ch.10 in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Then, they had to fetch an assortment of flowers. The Night Mother spoke of several strange breeds which Clarice had never heard of before, but after doing some research on flowers with the same sort of metaphysical properties, she managed to compile a list of more common-to-this-planet breeds. It was then to the flower shop, where Cicero had the hardest time understanding any of the flowers he was picking up. He confused tulips wi
.:Cicerology:. Ch.5"Cicero's long-ago past is not interesting, that's for sure," he began. "Sure, my childhood was difficult. But that happened so long ago, that Cicero's moved forward in a direction he believes is best for him. He used to be Sane. Ha, ha, ha! What a relative word. 'Sane'. To each his own, of course! Anyway, Cicero's race is called 'Imperial', from Cyrodiil. He became a part of what is called 'The Dark Brotherhood', because it was the only place he felt at home. Home! Another relative word. Who dictates what his 'home'? But he met the Night Mother. Poor, homely Cicero was humbled at the sight of her! He felt her power radiating off of her, and Cicero already felt unworthy to be in her presence..:Cicerology:. Ch.5 in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
"You asked humble Cicero if his Mother is dead. Technically, her body is no longer filled with her soul, but she does speak through the body she used to have. The beautiful, magnificent Night Mother is far from dead! And never will she die!
"After a great many happenings, the Listener
.:Cicerology:. Ch.9Clarice gathered her things in a bag the hospital had provided for her. She had to be careful to not tear the stitches which held her neck shut, so her head moved very limitedly (the thick bandage which covered her throat also impaired her neck movements). She had only spent the night in the hospital, but was awake most of the night due to having slept the entire day beforehand. Instead, she watched a few movies on the television, gathered her notes from her job in effort to make sense of some of her clients' problems (most of them superfluous), and tried to sleep without much success. That morning, she dedicated the time before she was allowed to leave, to calling her clients and cancelling appointments, due to "a severe injury". Some of them burst into tears, some became outraged, but most understood..:Cicerology:. Ch.9 in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
She tossed her notebook into her bag. Behind her, there was a light knock on her door. She turned around just in time for a grave-looking doctor to enter the room. She smiled politely,
.:Cicerology:. Ch.13She pressed the button at the bottom of the stairs repetitively. Panic began to set in when she realised that she wasn't being answered. She took a step away from the entrance, and looked up to his floor, only to see the curtains closed to his room. She knew how much he loved to let the light in when it was morning, since the darkness frightened him, due to the fact that it reminded him of solitude. Why wasn't he answering the buzzing of the button? He could definitely hear her from the Night Mother's room, and he couldn't possibly be angry enough with her to refuse her entry anymore. Something was wrong..:Cicerology:. Ch.13 in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Again, panic continued to overwhelm her. Frustrated, she slammed her fingertip onto the button, buzzing his room over and over again. She pressed her face against the window of the door, looking into the apartment. She then began to pound on the door, hoping someone would hear her.
The person who stood behind the desk saw her frustration and heard her incessant pounding. She moved awa
.:Cicerology:. Ch.8Cicero sat on the windowsill in his apartment, looking out to the world below him. It was so unfamiliar, so strange, so far from home. He held his ebony dagger in his hand, tossing it from his left to his right, weighing it, examining it. A tiny sliver of blood clung to its black, razor-sharp blade. Dr. Clarice Stoker's blood. The only person in the world, this one and his home, who tried endlessly to help him. And what did he do? He attacked her. He may have even killed her. She was the first person whose blood his blade had tasted, that he didn't want to squeeze the life out of..:Cicerology:. Ch.8 in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
He sighed heavily, ten thousand things running through his mind. Accusations, blames, self-loathing laughter. He glared down at the blade, his lips pulling back over his teeth like a snarling skeever. He looked back out the open window, pulled his arm back, and shot the thing, as far as he could, out the window. In the early morning sunlight, he saw a glint of ruby reflect the light, before the entire b
.:Cicerology:. Ch.2"What did I tell you?" Wanda said, shaking her head. "He's completely insane.".:Cicerology:. Ch.2 in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
"I don't know," replied Clarice. "He is really suggesting that he wants to change, and knows of his insanity. I think that's good enough to keep going."
"Well, did anything happen after that?" Wanda asked, sipping her martini.
Clarice shrugged. "Nothing, really. He kept talking about his love of dancing, mentioned the jester a few more times "
"Did he talk about his job?" Wanda inquired.
Clarice shook her head. "Not really. He said that he used to work, but when his mother came home, he wasn't allowed to leave her." Clarice shrugged, taking a sip of her beer. "Something like that. I think she's really sick or something, and is probably the reason he's going insane."
"Funny," Wanda smirked. "He didn't tell my therapist friend anything about his job. He refused when she asked. Maybe he likes you."
"Doubt it," Clarice replied. "He spent most of his time giving me this really creepy stare. I don't thi
.:Cicerology:. Ch.12Cicero left his mother's room, closing the door firmly behind him. He walked past the living room, not even turning his gaze towards the couch. For so many years, he has taught himself that even the smallest of gaze could materialise into tainting the perfection of what one witnesses. For example, in certain moments, Cicero couldn't even look at the Night Mother, because the simplicity of his gaze was incredibly filthy and could taint her purity. Here, in this case, the knowledge of the sleeping woman upon his couch, in her moment of purity, was enough to divert his gaze, for fear that he could wake her or disturb her in some way, just by looking at her..:Cicerology:. Ch.12 in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
What contented him the most, was the fact that there was a sleeping woman on his couch, and this meant that, since she was asleep, and sleep, as Cicero had learned through years of killing people for money, was the most complete form of vulnerability, that she trusted him. Her moment of fragility was rested, by her, into his hands. She
.:Cicerology:. Ch.7His apartment building was near the edge of town in the high-budget end of the city. It was known for having whole-floor suites and large, extravagant rooms. So, either he was incredibly rich, some kind of heir, or the fact that he had a pocket full of golden coins which he got appraised was true..:Cicerology:. Ch.7 in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
She stared at the extravagant building, feeling so small in comparison. She pressed the button for the floor on which she had told her he was, and waited to hear his voice. Eventually, there came a muffled shouting through the speaker.
"Yes, yes, hello, hello!" shouted the voice. "Clarice Stoker?"
"Yes, Cicero, it is me," she said into the speaker, laughing lightly.
"Ah! Good!" he shouted. "Can you hear me okay? Poor Cicero doesn't know how to use this thing!"
She laughed and took a step away from the speaker. "Yes, Cicero, I can hear you fine."
"Good!" there was a pause. " Now what do I do?"
"Press a button on the speaker to unlock the door," she informed him, still grinning.
.:Cicerology:. EpilogueOne Year Later.:Cicerology:. Epilogue in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Dr. Clarice Stoker sat alone in her office behind her desk, facing the bulk of the office. She examined the sofa on one side of the room, the chair in which she sat, the carpet, the pictures on the walls, the small cut in the drywall where an ebony dagger had been thrown.
One year ago, a mystery man had appeared into her world. He was completely insane, she knew that, and had a strange obsession with his mother. But when he disappeared, she was left alone. Alone, with silence, and solitude. So alone.
While the man was there, she had lost her best friend, her purpose in life, and someone she knew she loved. She was so in love. It was unlike anything she had ever felt, when he was there. She felt carefree, alive, passionate, in love. While he existed in her world, the rest of the world did not. Nothing mattered. But, then, he left her. And she chose to stay back and live as she knew she needed to in this world.
She was not sure why, but once the police officers deci
.:Cicerology:. Ch.14Clarice stared down at the lifeless body in her arms, too shocked to scream, too miserable to cry. She simply sat there, watching the body do nothing. Her body shook with the confusion of not knowing what to do, where to look, what to say. He gave up the fight just before the battle was won. How long had he been suffering before she got there?.:Cicerology:. Ch.14 in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
The Hagraven stared at the body, her claws still positioned to work the portal she was trying so hard to achieve. Now, sadly, it seemed pointless. The air within the room filled with darkness as the Night Mother stared down at her beloved Keeper's corpse. Both women who considered Cicero the only man in the world who mattered more than anything sat there, staring at the motionless body in complete disbelief.
"Sithis," the Night Mother said, her voice low. "Please. Don't let him go."
"I've said this before," Sithis said. "A single soul in a pool of trillions. It's more difficult than it sounds. And by the time I find his so